


i run to you(and run away from this hell)

by CassandraStarflower



Series: W.I.T.C.H. One-shots [2]
Category: W.I.T.C.H.
Genre: Gen, Matt was literally possessed, Parents Finding Traumatized Children's Creative Outlets, Worried Parents, and that's that, let's face it, repeatedly, there's no way they aren't traumatized, they are traumatized, they fought monsters, they saw people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraStarflower/pseuds/CassandraStarflower
Summary: Joan Lin entered her daughter’s bedroom, intending to remove the dirty clothes hamper. But practically as soon as she entered, she stopped dead. Decorating the walls of the room where paintings. This was normal. It was the content of the paintings that shocked her.Let's face it. The kids are so totally traumatized. And some of them have physical creative outlets.Hay Lin paints, Taranee writes, Matt makes songs. Cornelia throws herself into her figure-skating(not in story), Will swims(not is story), and Irma does her radio thing.What if parents found the first three's outlets?





	i run to you(and run away from this hell)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist.   
> Title from Farther Away by Evanescence.

Joan Lin entered her daughter’s bedroom, intending to remove the dirty clothes hamper. But practically as soon as she entered, she stopped dead. Decorating the walls of the room where paintings. This was normal. It was the content of the paintings that shocked her. 

One painted depicted a beautiful iridescent marble fortress floating among the clouds, but a war machine was flying towards it, with winged beings on board. A catapult was flinging a glowing purple missile towards the fortress.

Another depicted a beautiful young woman with iridescent wings and long black hair. She looked angry, and lightning was crackling around her. She clutched a staff in one hand.

Joan Lin had never seen these paintings before, but then again it had been some months since she’d last entered her daughter’s bedroom. 

Her eyes darted around, studying the different paintings. Most were very dark and gloomy, including winged girls, a masked man, snarling beasts, a huge snake monster, and hundreds of green and brown creatures. 

She didn’t understand how her daughter’s (admittedly quite active) imagination could have conjured this up. The paintings were all like scenes from a nightmare. 

As she carried the hamper down to the laundry, she debated what to do. 

Get psychiatric help for Hay Lin? She dismissed the idea.

Ask where the ideas for the paintings had come from? Hay Lin might lie about that.

Talk to Yan Lin? It made sense, Hay Lin had always been quite close to her grandmother. 

Her mind made up, Joan made her way to where Yan Lin was cleaning up after hours (Hay Lin being at a sleepover at Irma’s house).

“Have you seen the paintings in Hay Lin’s room?” she asked lightly. 

Yan Lin stilled briefly before continuing to clean. “Yes.”

“They’re very… dark.” Joan confessed. “They scare be a little.”

Yan Lin hesitated. “Perhaps it’s just a phase she’s going through.”

Joan frowned slightly. “Perhaps.”

-_-_-_-

 

Theresa Cook walked into Taranee’s room, being in the midst of a search for some paperwork Taranee had apparently misplaced. She began to search through the papers littering the desk, only to pick one up and begin to read.

It was a poem. It was a very dark poem.

Theresa froze, wondering why her daughter would be writing depressing poetry. 

_ Maybe Peter knows. _

She silently set the poem down and noticed the papers she’d been looking for. PIcking them up, she hurried out of Taranee’s room and headed downstairs.

She set the papers down and called Peter over. 

“Peter, has Taranee talked to you about anything much lately?” 

Peter looked over. “No, not really. Why? Is something wrong?” 

“Yes.” Theresa told him about the poem. “Talk to her tomorrow, would you? Ask her if anything’s wrong.”

Peter nodded. “I will, Mom.”

-_-_-_-

Marietta Olsen knocked on her son’s bedroom door. When no one answered, she walked in, noting absently that Matt was not inside. Not even Mr. Huggles was there. She sighed when she noticed his songbook was open, and walked over to pick it up.

She froze at the sight of the words on the page. Words she could barely read, they were so scribbly and angry. A song, one that she’d never heard him play before, and she could understand why. 

She was crying by the end of it, and she closed the songbook and left Matt’s room, blindly walking up the stairs. 

_ What happened to my son? _

**Author's Note:**

> Short, and I didn't put in Matt's song, or Taranee's poems, because I don't write stuff like that. Just imagine really angsty stuff with names like Phobos and Nerissa and Shagon. Like, the angstiest stuff possible.


End file.
